Chance will bring us face to face,
wingless since the nuptial flight,
in some dusty market-place
where no-one cares to buy.
The scaffolding of old constraints
will fall away, and there will be
no ceaseless tumult of the hive,
no anguish and no ire.
You worship a decrepit god -
observe him trading trust for trash,
turning temples into ash,
counting his small change...
Chance encounter
© Copyright: Jena Woodhouse, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106042801242
Свидетельство о публикации №106042801242
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When I read a perfect poem like this one I hesitate whether to leave my comment, just a poem on the page looks so intense, so true.
I think this is the first poem of yours I would like to learn by heart, because this are in a way my own words that I would rather say to the person I know, and this is the key to the true poetry - to find the words that would seem to the reader to be the reader's own words...
Марианна Шихарбеева 13.05.2006 12:17 • Заявить о нарушении
I think this is the first poem of yours I would like to learn by heart, because this are in a way my own words that I would rather say to the person I know, and this is the key to the true poetry - to find the words that would seem to the reader to be the reader's own words...
Марианна Шихарбеева 13.05.2006 12:17 • Заявить о нарушении
It is the greatest possible compliment when a reader wants to make a poem his or her own in this way. Thank you.
Jena Woodhouse 15.05.2006 14:19 Заявить о нарушении
Jena Woodhouse 15.05.2006 14:19 Заявить о нарушении